Published by Jameson Kowalczyk at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Jameson Kowalczyk
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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There was brightness, and pain.
He was on his back, looking up at the light set in the center of the ceiling. His head throbbed. He was in the room where he cooked and ate food. What was this room called?
His vision rolled to one side, away from the light. He gagged, and his mouth filled with a taste that made him think of paper cuts and copper coins. He spit onto the floor. Red splashed against the white tiles.
He couldn't think of the word seizure, but the idea was there. It should be. The waking up on the floor, the disorientation, the feeling like a piece of his life had just gone missing, all this was familiar. It had happened before, happened too many times to count.
But there was something wrong. Because he wasn't supposed to have seizures anymore. Not after the surgery. Not after the doctors opened up his skull and performed a procedure called a corpus callosotomy. The last resort of last resorts for treating severe cases of epilepsy. The kinds of severe cases that refused to be controlled by any combination of medication. Cases like his. The surgeons had shaved his head, peeled back his scalp, sawed open his skull, and carefully dragged a scalpel through his corpus callosum, the bundle of neural fibers that connected the right hemisphere of his brain to the left. Basically, they'd sliced his brain in two. The end result was called a "split brain."